


My Resolution Is You

by forgetmenotjimmy



Category: Chicago Fire
Genre: Banter, Blood and Injury, Confessions, F/M, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, New Year's Eve, New Year's Kiss, On a Call, Requited Love, Trapped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-25 02:20:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22048339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forgetmenotjimmy/pseuds/forgetmenotjimmy
Summary: She put her fingers against his neck. “Don’t tell me that you think breaking the record for fastest dummy relay time is a good New Year’s resolution.”His pulse was a little high but nothing to worry about, yet.He murmured a reply. “That was Capp.”Sylvie frowned, thinking back to that morning’s banter in the break room. “Huh. What was yours?”He closed his eyes and her heart spasmed.Trapped under a tonne of rubble on New Year's Eve, Matt and Sylvie talk.
Relationships: Sylvie Brett/Matthew Casey
Comments: 11
Kudos: 116





	My Resolution Is You

Sylvie groaned. Her head was pounding, someone was crushing her and she was lying on something hard and cold. Oh, and the piercing wailing of her alarm was right next to her ear. Kyle still hadn’t replaced his mattress and he was breathing down her neck, stopping her from getting to the alarm. To top it all, winter had finally seemed to have infected her.

“Kyle.” She croaked, throat aching as she coughed. “Kyle, geddoff!” She pushed at him groggily, but her numb fingers felt a rough material through her gloves.

Wait. Gloves? She opened her eyes and blinked, struggling to see through the gloom. Someone was on top of her, but it couldn’t be Kyle because he was in Fowlerton and she’d gone back to Chicago. They’d been on a call when… That wasn’t _her_ alarm.

Wiggling, she got a hand free and patted the face resting on her right shoulder to wake the firefighter on top of her. “Hey, wakey-wakey.”

He, apparently, groaned and shifted, coming awake with a start. Something hard pressed against her skull and she jerked her head back. Sylvie then realized they were surrounded and pined in by rubble. Above them there looked to be something resting on the man, a piece of wood or something. On their right side the rubble came within a couple inches of them and on the left was a little more room, but not enough for her to fit comfortably if she wanted out from under him. The thing against her head was his helmet and he was wearing, _they_ were wearing turnout gear. There’d been a building on fire, she remembered, then…an explosion?

“Wha’ happened?” Casey asked, even rasping she recognized his voice. Only slightly reassured in hearing it, Sylvie bit her lip.

“I think the ceiling collapsed?” Sylvie offered, before breaking into more coughing.

Casey blinked down at her and her medical mind started assessing him as best she could. Was he concussed? He turned off his alarm, pushed his hands against the floor and yelped, collapsing down and hissing. The space above them creaked a little but she focused on him.

“What?” She demanded.

“There’s something, gah! My leg!” He winced, panting. “It’s pinned down. Can’t-”

“Alright, well don’t try to move it.” Gasping, he nodded and she forced herself to ignore the ache of her ribs under his bodyweight.

“You got any light?”

He mumbled something and turned on his helmet light, almost blinding her.

She tutted at his muttered apology and began examining him as best she could. “Can you tell me your name?”

He dutifully answered her questions and once she’d declared him possibly only slightly concussed, he did the same for her. Then he tried his radio. Nothing but static. He spoke into it anyway, calling for assistance. Awkwardly, she shifted a little and tried hers: same result.

She groaned. “I think we’re gonna be stuck here a while.”

Casey grunted and Sylvie’s heart twanged as she heard the pain in his voice.

She asked. “Can you see the jump bag? I think I had it on me when I came in.”

Tentatively, Casey swivelled as much as he could from his position.

“There!” He flopped a hand to her left. Squinting, she made out the corner of the bag between two slabs of concrete. Reaching out her arm, she could just graze the fabric of the bag.

“Could you…?” She coughed as she squirmed, trying to shimmy closer to the bag. Getting her plan, he lifted his arm out of her way, gasping as one of her legs flailed against one of his.

“Sorry, sorry!” She cried, even as she stretched further and grabbed hold of the bag. Knitting her brow, she tugged, dislodging some smaller pieces of concrete.

“Careful.” He wheezed, the light on his helmet wavering as he coughed. Pouring all her strength into her left arm she yanked the bag and it came free, almost hitting her in the face. Exhausted from the effort, she forced herself to turn it over one-handed and unzip it. Casey groaned suddenly and his body spasmed.

“Casey? What-?” Leaning over on her right side, he threw up. She closed her eyes briefly, wincing at the wet sound of it coming out and hitting the rubble and, ew! Little drops of splashback peppered her side. She turned her upper-body to the left, managing to get both hands on the bag. The light was focused behind her, where Casey was still heaving.

Grunting, she gingerly reached up and worked the helmet off his head, putting it on herself and turning back to the bag. The force of the explosion or being squished by the rubble had burst the glass containers and pierced some of the plastic-wrapped stuff. Grimacing, she sorted through the mess, discarding useless things back in the hole where the bag had been lodged. Half-on top of her, half-beside her, Casey gasped and spat, wiping his mouth. The smell was hitting her and she forced herself to ignore it. What she couldn’t ignore though, was Casey’s mutterings.

“Sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…I didn’t mean to do it, dad, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” She soothed, mind still focused on finding some kind of painkiller. Then her hands stopped and her whole body froze. Had he…? She glanced back at him. “Casey?” He didn’t reply, still shaking, his mouth still moving even though his voice was too low to make out any words. “Matt?” He glanced up, pupils shrinking under the bright light and for a moment he looked like a trapped animal. Then the moment passed and he coughed.

“Sylvie.” He looked down at the vomit, nose wrinkling. “Sorry.” The sheepishness was more like him, so she smiled a little, filing the puzzle away for later.

“It’s not your fault.” She went back to her search. “If anything I should be thanking you, for protecting me.”

“Well, I had the helmet.” He demurred and she held back a knowing laugh. Finally, she found a non-contaminated syringe and vial of painkiller. “Wait, that’s not for me, is it?” She raised an eyebrow at him and he huffed. “We don’t know how long we’ll be down here.”

“You’re in pain now.”

“I can handle it.” He set his jaw and for a blinding moment she hated his macho-bullshit. Then the anger passed and she conceded, placing the things back into the cleaned out bag.

“I’d feel better if I could take a look at your wound.”

He thought for a moment and then nodded, wincing as she extracted her legs from under him. Crouching, she directed him to lie down and awkwardly shuffled around. His right foot was underneath a large piece of concrete which in turn was underneath more rubble at its opposite end. No way, they’d be able to lift it off without first removing all the surrounding concrete.

“Can you wiggle your toes?” She asked.

Groaning softly, he confirmed. “Yeah, I can feel them. It’s…they’re not cut off.”

“Alright, let me know if that changes.” It could be worse. She hunched down, trying to get a look underneath the rock, feeling his pant leg. It was damp. “You’re bleeding.”

“I think it’s stopped.” He gasped before groaning wordlessly. Pressing her lips together, Sylvie inched her fingers along his leg to his boot, feeling for the wound.

“Can you feel the cut?”

“Sylvie.” His voice was weakening. Stomach clenching, she found what felt like the source of the blood. She couldn’t feel any fresh blood, everywhere feeling sticky. “Have you…got anything for smells?”

“Huh?”

“I can’t remember what I ate but, it smells really bad.”

Holding onto the humour, she teased him. “You wuss. I smell worse every shift.”

He laughed a little breathlessly.

She stretched out and fumbled for some bandages. “Anywhere else hurt?”

He shook his head, breathing becoming ragged.

Concerned, she put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Slow and even.”

He hummed and made an effort to calm his breathing. After a minute, she was satisfied and went back to trying to pack his wound by feel alone.

“Think the others are alright?” She asked without thinking. Belatedly, she winced, not wanting him to worry even more.

He surprised her by replying firmly. “Severide and Boden are up there.”

She smiled and rejoined. “And there’s nothing they can’t do.”

He rasped. “If there is anything, Kidd will take care of it.”

She nodded approvingly. “Plus Foster. She is _not_ to be reckoned with.”

Casey hummed tiredly. Sylvie glanced up at him, the light highlighting a few of his hairs, making them shine golden through the dust.

“Casey.” She called. He didn’t reply, eyes closed. “Casey.” She said louder and he shifted, wincing into consciousness.

“Foster’s good.” He slurred and Sylvie finished messing around with the bandages. She moved back to the bag, ignoring the aches and pains in her own body as she manoeuvred around the cramped space.

“She is. Did I tell you about the spin class?” He grunted a negative, one eye watching her lazily. She found the fluids and prepped the syringe, telling him the story of Foster the Terrible actually being a popular instructor.

He huffed a laugh in all the right places and managed to quip. “She and Cruz should do a class together, take the exercise world by storm.”

Remembering the drama with Cruz’s Zumba class, Sylvie laughed, though she concentrated on taking off his glove and rolling up his sleeve. He made a wordless, questioning sound and she told him seriously.

“I need to replenish your fluids. I think you’re going into shock.”

His head nodded slightly and he rasped. “’kay.”

She inserted the catheter and hung the bag over her shoulder to get the flow started.

“Why did he stop?” Casey suddenly asked. Sylvie frowned but he went on before she could question him. “Cruz, he stopped giving classes.” Careful not to dislodge the catheter or bag on her shoulder, Sylvie sat down cross-legged, one knee pressed against the concrete, the other against him.

“I don’t know. I think he earned more through bouncing.”

After a beat of silence, he muttered. “It was fun.”

Feeling mildly amused despite the situation, Sylvie half-smiled. “You liked it?”

“Uhuh. Mm terrible, but it was fun.”

“You weren’t terrible.”

Resting his head on his other hand, he peered up at her, lip curling up. “You didn’t see me.”

Sylvie opened her mouth but then stopped, unable to remember what Matt dancing had looked like. His ironic huff turned into a coughing fit and she put her free hand on his shoulder, as if to help keep him from jostling his leg.

“Well,” she continued as if nothing had interrupted them, “anyone can dance, it’s just a matter of practice.”

He smiled. “Again, you’ve never seen me.”

“So maybe that should be your New Year’s Resolution. Dance lessons.”

“Have one already.” He protested quietly and she put two fingers against his pulse point, even as she kept up the conversation.

“Don’t tell me that you think breaking the record for fastest dummy relay time is a good New Year’s resolution.” His pulse was a little high but nothing to worry about, yet.

He murmured a reply. “That was Capp.”

Sylvie frowned, thinking about to that morning’s banter in the break room. “Huh. What was yours?”

He closed his eyes. “Didn’t say.”

She shook him a little, voice a little high-pitched. “Well, what is it?”

His eyes slid open again and he blinked up at her as much as he could. She asked again. “Your New Year’s Resolution?”

“Gonna foster a kid.” He finally answered.

Sylvie stared down at him, mouth hung open slightly. “Oh.”

He continued as if she wasn’t there. “Shoulda done it before, I jus, just wanted someone, to help but,” he sighed, “better just me.”

“Casey- Matt, I…you’ll make an amazing foster father.” Feeling uncomfortable, but Hell – what else were they going to talk about? – she ventured. “Though maybe you _could_ wait a little longer, till you find that special someone. It’d be a lot easier.”

His gaze went distant as he murmured. “Was gonna have kids with Ally but,” he coughed harshly and Sylvie desperately wished they had water. She considered telling him to save his voice, but he needed to stay awake.

“Who’s Ally?”

“Hallie.” He corrected. “She was my first girlfriend. You know, real, adult girlfriend. God, I loved her. Why couldn’t I have been faster?” He asked a clueless Sylvie. Heart squeezed by the helplessness in his voice, she put a gentle hand on his cheek. He sniffed and went on, voice stronger. “Then we lost the baby and Louie and then…” He trailed off and whispered. “It’s just me left.”

Leaning down, Sylvie said firmly. “You’ve got me.”

He stared up at her and she held his gaze steadily. There was something in his eye she couldn’t identify and she felt the same pull she had all those months ago in the bunk room. She shifted and felt the bag on her shoulder was almost empty.

The moment had passed.

“How you feeling?” She pressed the backs of her fingers against his forehead – he didn’t feel too hot or cold.

“Well, I was feeling _crushed_ , but now I know you’ve got my back…” Somehow Sassy-Matt always took her by surprise.

Half-amused, half-annoyed she replied. “Seriously? You’re going to tease me about that?”

He shrugged as much as he could. “It’s the firefighter way.”

“Well, I’m a paramedic, and I asked you a serious question.”

“Legs tingling a bit, but otherwise fine.”

“Pins and needles tingles?”

“Yeah.”

She twisted her mouth, but anything she might have said was interrupted by the chirp of her radio.

“-Brett, do you copy?" Eagerly, she grabbed it and replied.

“We copy! This is Brett and Casey; we’re trapped under the rubble. I’m fine but Casey’s leg is pinned. He lost some blood but he’s responsive.” Boden responded, telling them they were close to uncovering the top layer of debris and they’d get them out soon.

“For now: sit tight.” Matt intoned in a passable Boden impression. Sylvie made sure the radio wasn’t transmitting before she chuckled.

“Please tell me this is _not_ the blood-loss talking.”

He smiled and asked. “So is your New Year’s Resolution really to tame a wild sparrow?”

Now more than a little concerned about his state of mind, she pulled his eyelid with a thumb. He twitched out of her grip and conceded. “I’m being a dick, what _is_ your resolution?"

She leaned back as much as she could, relief flooding her. “To hear you be a dick in a non-emergency situation. You tell me again that I’m a Disney Princess and see where it gets you.”

He chuckled, eye twinkling. “I’ll take my chances.”

She grinned. 

A loud groaning above them made her head snap up and had her throwing herself over him, tucking his head under hers. Things rained down on them and the walls of their prison shook; all Sylvie could do was hold on as she felt Matt writhing beneath her. Finally, it stopped and loud voices called down to them. She coughed and wheezed, but uncurled enough to wave up at the space above them. She saw Joe’s face and had never been so happy to see him. She put down the IV bag and checked on Matt. His eyes were closed and he was wincing.

“Matt.” She said urgently as Boden called her.

“Brett! Get out so we can cut him free.” With one last glance at his face, she placed his helmet back on his head gently. Standing was a kind of agony, but it also felt good to stretch out her muscles. Hands reached down to her and she took them unthinkingly, using her legs to help herself out of the hole. Stumbling a little, she was guided away and sniffing, she numbly accepted Foster’s quick, relieved hug.

“Gotta get him out.” She mumbled and Foster took her face in her hands.

“They’ll get him, come and let me check you out on the rig.”

Fighting tears, Sylvie went.

…

When the loud noises and vibrations finally left him alone, he let himself float above it all. He’d earned that; she would want him to rest. Distantly, he registered that he was moving or…he was in a moving thing. Someone was speaking. To him? He couldn’t see them. He felt something pinch the skin of his hand and then he slowly sunk into darkness.

Beeping woke him next. The smell was sharp but clean. Hospital. He was in the hospital. Why? His throat was scratchy and his foot throbbed. Oh right, cave in.

“I know you’re awake.” Huh? Oh, Sylvie. He opened his eyes slowly, letting them adjust. She looked a little dusty, but otherwise fine, sitting on a chair by his bed.

Still, he rasped. “You okay?”

Her smile looked a little sad. He blinked, trying to focus as she replied. “Better than you. Your foot is going to be fine, it’ll take a bit to heal but you won’t lose it.”

Turning his head just a little, he took in the room and the closed curtains. “What time is it?”

She glanced at her watch and said tiredly. “Two minutes to midnight.”

“Huh, felt longer.”

She nodded and looked down at her hands. Rolling his head a little against the pillow, he asked. “What?”

Her voice was quiet. “You scared me there.”

“ _You_ scared _me_. I didn’t want you in there at all. Then explosion. Rubble. It was like the mattress factory all over again.” She shifted, pain flashing across her face. He regretted bringing it up. It wasn’t a competition anyway.

“Guess we’re a matched pair.” She replied a little cryptically. At his eyebrow raise she explained. “Blaming ourselves for things that aren’t our fault. And I’m not just talking about the mattress fire.” He closed his mouth, eyes darting over her face.

She went on. “I was dismissive earlier, about your resolution, but I think part of you blames yourself for losing those chances. I wish you wouldn’t.”

They were riding right into dangerous territory and Matt’s instinct was to change the subject, but he was in the hospital on New Year’s Eve and the pain meds were still holding.

“Yeah, maybe. Either way, I don’t want to miss any more.”

A tentative hand rested on his wrist above the IV drip on his hand.

“Neither do I.”

His heart rate picked up a bit and he blushed as she saw it on the monitor. Gently taking his hand with her one, she asked. “You think you’ll have time in between applications for a date? You and me. See where things go.” Throat tight, he searched her face, almost disbelieving that he’d heard her right. Brows pulling together she went on. “Of course I won’t get in the way of the fostering. You shouldn’t have to wait any-”

“Okay.”

She stopped talking, looking at him cautiously. Squeezing her hand, he continued. “Yes, I’d love that.” Her phone buzzed and she glanced down.

Smiling, she said.

“Happy New Year.”

Smiling back, he couldn’t stop himself from looking down at her lips. As intuitive as ever, she understood and leaned in, pressing her lips to his. His whole body ached lightly, the catheter was itchy against his skin and his head was throbbing, but her touch melted everything else away. After a moment, the kiss deepened and he brought his free hand up to cup her jaw. She made a little moan and moved in closer, the pressure against his lips and the warmth of her so close, sending tingles through him. Breaking off, she bit her lip, eyes dancing.

“Happy New Year.” He whispered, his entire being weightless.

“It’s going to be a good one,” she stroked a thumb over his temple, “I can tell.”

Leaning into her touch, he hummed. “Yeah, me too.” After a moment, his head tilted and he asked curiously. “What was your resolution?”

She laughed and he demanded with a chuckle. “What?”

She kissed him again.

**Author's Note:**

> I am not a medical professional and I barely googled for this quick n dirty fic so…if any details really annoy you with the inaccuracy, let me know and I’ll edit it, otherwise: enjoy!  
> Also, why yes I have seen the Cruz Zumba episode too many times and watched everyone dancing at the end and dear Jesse Spencer, to this day I have no idea if he was deliberately off-beat or just can’t dance to save his life. Watch it, he’s literally a whole move behind everyone else, at all times. Anyway, I kind of love the idea of Casey being so graceful and, as Severide once put it ‘unstoppable’, on calls but becoming so awkward the minute someone puts music on.  
> Also, also, Happy New Year! Hope you all have a better time than these two.


End file.
